


Cousin Fucking Degradation Addiction

by Tas_tan



Category: Original Work
Genre: /ss/, Choking, Cosplay, Dirty Talk, Excessive Semen, F/M, Fat Ass, Incest, Large Cock, Nosebleed, Shota, Sweat, detailed insemination, gape, musk, slutwear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27428836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tas_tan/pseuds/Tas_tan
Summary: Petra Athelas is an obscenely-proportioned 26-year-old young woman who couldn't quite make it through post-secondary education. Instead of spending her days trying to figure out what she wants to do with the rest of her life, she spends most of her time having physically and mentally degenerative sex with her ostensibly-but-perhaps-not 7-year-old cousin and taking sloppy loads of his semen into her holes.'Why' you ask? Because Petra is addicted to abuse and would rather pretend to be degenerate versions of japanese cartoon characters to get said abuse than admit this fact to another adult.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

_“Nothing is going to get better if you go up there. Things will be fine for a bit, but it’s only going to get worse later.”_

_“You’ve already done a ton as it is. Why do you keep pushing like this?”_

_“Is it really this important to you? So much that it doesn’t matter how you go about it?”_

_“If not, you need to seriously think about what you’re going to do instead. Otherwise, you’re going to regret it…”_

_  
“Both of you will.”_

For each stairway step Petra Athelas climbed towards her destination, her entertainment of tired lamentations focused on the same tired subject slowed her progression.

The ‘subject’ in question concerned her circumstance. While her decision to ascend the staircase was one she had made on a whim several hours prior, the factors that had presented this decision as an ‘option’ for her stemmed from thoughts and feelings that had festered within her for months.

No matter how gratifying, the actions that these thoughts and feelings had validated were abnormal. Slowly but surely, embracing them was changing her; perhaps not for the worst, but in a manner she’d have never allowed had she not accepted their persistence with her beforehand.

Simply, she was becoming a different person not by necessity, but by choice. Not just any person, but one so contrary to who she believed herself to be that her recognition of this fact intensified the dissonance within her heart for each day she allowed it to continue.

And yet, she did nothing to stop it. Much like her ascent of the staircase ahead of her and her eventual progression through the hallway at its peak, she continued changing until the only recourse that remained for her was complaining to herself about how far she had allowed herself to fall.

This was not to say that she didn’t entertain the thought of trying. Were stopping her transformation as simple as making different choices, the daily lamentations that accompanied her actions may well have never entered her brain.

Of course, they weren’t. For as much as her changes concerned herself and her feelings, they also concerned an individual capable of validating them—

A little boy so helplessly impressionable that the very thought of disappointing him filled Petra with more dismay than anything else.

Ahead of him, Petra’s lamentations silenced by feelings of frustration and embarrassment. When made to face him at the end of her stride through the second floor of the house, the fact that she was changing at all fell from the forefront of her mind.

At that moment, _how_ she was changing was far more important.

“...”

“No. Not on your fucking life you weird little faggot. You have no idea the shit that I went through just to do this much.” Petra barked.

“I am NOT saying that shit, so stop looking at me like I’m supposed to. I-I can just as easily walk back downstairs and move on with my life, so stop being so fucking greedy and just take what you can get!”

Tone more so frustrated than forceful, Petra focused all of her embarrassed frustration into scathing verbalizations at the little boy she believed to be responsible for them.

The boy hadn’t suggested that she present herself within his bedroom as she had, and had yet to do anything other than stare at her. Despite this, Petra felt as though he had put her on the spot. Cursed with an uncomfortable amount of knowledge as to how she could make what she was doing even better, the boy’s gaze suggested that she wasn’t putting her utmost effort into something that deserved it by default.

Eventually, this simple, starry-eyed gaze convinced her of this as well.

“God FUCK! Fine, if you want to rot your brain, see if I care! I barely even know what the fuck I’m talking about, so if I hear anything that even sounds like a laugh out of you, I’m never doing this again!”

Behind this outburst, Petra tightened her grasp on the colorful baton within her left hand and raised her right hand up to her face. As soon as it sat parallel to the right edge of her face, she spread her fingers into a ‘peace-sign’, and finally raised both her wrist and arm so that her index and middle fingers sat spread above and below her right eye.

Next, she introduced herself.

“P-Puri Magica Edios L-Lighter is here to s-stop you, e-evil doer! W-With the l-love in my heart, I-I will protect this world and all those w-who live in it to m-my dying breath!”

“Puuuuuriiii Shinnnnneeee~!”

Right as Petra finished drawing out the final word of her intro, the motionless youth ahead of her sprang into action. Lunging forward with arms outspread, he hugged his arms around as much of the older woman’s hip span as his limbs could manage and squished his face into the fat-softened fringes of her abdominals. Once firmly latched on, he slipped into an affectionate nuzzle of her midsection loaded with all of the unbridled adoration that her display had evoked in him.

Perhaps expectedly, his first words since Petra’s entrance into his bedroom came shortly afterwards.

  
“Wow! Wowwowwow! You’re just like Edios Lighter, Petty!” he chirped. “That was the best! You even remembered the stuff that she says after she transforms to fight th’ Corruption Beasts!”

“Your costume is way cuter, too! I dunno why or how you did this, but thank you! You’re the best cousin ever!”

Taken aback by the response that she received and aroused by the amount of affection that it earned her, Petra’s hands jumped down into a repulsive compression of the boy’s head as soon as he latched onto her. Without any real desire to actually push the child away or mitigate his actions, her toothless shoving of his skull served only to cool the embarrassment burning within her cheeks by a few degrees and slow her up-jumped heart rate to a modest throb.

Firm in her intent to present as though this wasn’t the case, she was quick to supplement her rejection with speech so as to not be misunderstood by the child hugging at her hips.

“S-Shut the fuck up, you weirdo! And stop grabbing me so much; you’re not a baby!” she barked, weakly. “You watch that stupid show enough, so i-it wasn’t that hard to learn or anything. Getting a costume off the internet isn’t rocket science, either. T-This one is probably some other version, t-though…”

“A-Anyway, fuck! I didn’t just come in here for you to hug me l-like this, so let go already! You’re 7, Henri; you’ve gotta be more mature, okay?”

Incensed as Petra presented herself to be whilst addressing her younger cousin, no part of her felt as though the boy’s reaction to her appearance was inappropriate. In her mind, most children were liable to behave excitedly when presented with a real-life version of their favorite japanese female cartoon character often depicted in obscenely perverse sexual situations by niggas on the internet. Past this, a reaction along these lines was precisely what she sought from donning the outfit in the first place.

Anything less than this would have been disappointing. Squeezing all 5’’8 of herself into the undersized pink-and-white school uniform that constituted Eidos Lighter’s outfit and coming to terms with its inability to present the make of her frame with any kind of modesty was not a task she’d have accepted were the ‘reward’ for successfully completing it not so high.

For her own sake, Petra put no effort into acquiring a peach-pink wig styled to stimulate Eidos’ hair color, and made no adjustments to the mid-back length head of liberty-blue hair atop her skull. Left to its usual complementation of the narrow, edge-favored sharpness of her pale green eyes via a pair of sickle-shaped bangs set to each side of her face and an ‘M’-shaped curtaining of her forehead, one could argue that she was as much herself as she was the character she had dressed herself as.

Incidentally, denying that she was not in some way ‘herself’ also required denying the sweaty, monstrously-sized J-Cup breasts that bloated the fabric of her uniform’s blouse. Wide enough and fat enough to deny the garment a proper encapsulation of her upper body, only just under half of the puffy, watermelon-shaped pillows sat obscured by its fabric. Whilst her inverted nipples and half of the tan-peach areola surrounding them were hidden by its skin tight hold on her mounds, every inch of the sweat-greased sacs below this point was left on full display. This being a fraction large enough to obscure a significant portion of her upper abdominals, the function of her ‘blouse’ was really no different than a woefully-undersized tanktop. Given the slightest jostling of her upper body—for example her constant squirming and shoving within Henri’s grasp—the extent of their wobbling within the garment’s hold made it appear as being one sudden movement away from rupturing.

Similarly, Puri Magica Eidos Lighter would never have subjected herself to wearing the ‘skirt’ affixed to Petra’s hips. As most all ‘Puri Magica Cosplay Kits’ were designed with children, and/or far smaller women in mind, the width of Petra’s hips in conjunction with the mild plumpness of her midsection and the gratuitous, double-fat volleyballs of peach-shaped buttocks flesh of her backside rendered the skirt completely useless. Affixed well above the beginning of her hips’ curvature, the absence of panties covering her chubby lower lips and the fertile curvature of her lower body sat completely exposed underneath it. Whereas the peaks of her hips offered a vulnerable, fat-padded squishiness that complimented their width and the indentations cut from them down to her crotch, her midsection offered a modest excess of fat unaltered by abdominal musculature or tone. As ‘topped off’ by a skirt too short to even begin curtailing the jiggling protrusion of her rear or the huggable bloat of her thighs—a flap of fabric indicative of an attempt at decency as opposed to the achievement of it—Petra’s figure firmly defied the juvenile slenderness of the young woman she was attempting to portray.

Obscene or no, Petra did not particularly mind presenting herself this way. Having somehow succeeded in earning applause from Henri despite the obvious differences between her target appearance and her current one, everything about the effort was to her a means to an end—whorish clothing and all.

In the present, the only thing that mattered to her was her reward:

The ‘special’ motivation that only Henri could provide.

Thus, when at last the tiny boy released her hips and stepped backwards to resume appreciating her appearance, she turned her gaze away from his and addressed him in a manner far less ‘fiery’ than she had before.

“...S-So, since you obviously like it, I was t-thinking that you could do me a...y’know... a favor.” she began, softly. “No one forced me to do any of this, but when a girl goes outta her way for you, you have to be ready to make her feel special for it, understand?”

“S-So, yeah. I-I was thinking that…”

“Y-Y’know...y-you could do…”

“That t-thing we always d-do…”

Far too excited to entertain thoughts that did not relate to his cousin, the meaning behind her vague proposition occurred to Henri immediately. Well acclimated to the strange embarrassment that overtook her each time the subject arose, he smoothly ended her waffling with an expression of ignorant candor seen all too often from children with no idea what they were truly speaking about.

Unlike these children, however, he did so with a smile and not a smirk.

“Oh! You mean you want me to treat you like that, uh…” piping up cheerfully, temporary gaps in the boy’s knowledge led him to a pensive pause within seconds.

“You wanna get treated like that **disposable retard** thing again, right? Where I’m supposed to call you a **worthless, jizz-snorting idiot** and do all sorts of other mean stuff?” he suggested, voice and facial features completely detached from the subjects he had raised. “Sure! It’s a lot of fun, so I can do that no problem!”

“Didja wanna—”

Mid-utterance, a firm clapping of Petra’s right hand across the span of his mouth denied Henri the ability to continue speaking. Naturally curious as to what had caused her to suddenly silence him, the dipping of his line of sight down towards his mouth was immediately followed by a slant of his gaze up towards the older woman’s face.

Right as he caught sight of the flushed and frustrated expression visible there, the removal of Petra’s hand and the response that came with it answered all of his questions.

“…R-Remember what I said about not saying that stuff so much unless I tell you to? You guessed right, b-but save it for when you’re helping me.” petulant, pouty, and somehow softer than she had been seconds prior, Petra’s tone was one that might be used for asking someone of something rather than telling them to produce it.

Completely ignorant to the difference between these tones, Henri nodded, and continued speaking as he had prior to her suggestion.

“Okay! Whatever you say, ‘Pig-meat Eidos Lighter!’” he chirped.

“Fucking! What did I just—”

Just before her temper could flare beyond her control, all 21 years of experience she maintained over her younger cousin implanted a cooling idea into her head. Per its contents, she ceased speaking, and wordlessly progressed past Henri towards the mattress at the midsection of his bedroom. At its foot, she lowered herself onto it front first—a feat that she just barely managed given the child-appropriate sizing of his mattress—and curled her neck backwards to address the boy that she had left behind.

“T-That’s right, ‘Pig Meat Eidos Light’ n-needs a lot of help from one of her biggest fans, okay?” she began. “You have to do your best to fuck up my insides, got it? Y-You’re a stupid brat, but I **know** you know how to do it properly.”

“Treat your cous—I m-mean, treat me like a greasy fucking onahole. I-It’s the only way I’ll be able to use m-my powers or whatever properly, okay?”

To this, Henri produced a final wordless nod in response and set off straight towards his bed. Whilst not so young as to require his cousin to play pretend with him to convey the weight of her meaning, Petra’s decision to do so reminded him as to where her request was coming from.

Apparently, this ‘being used’ was something that his cousin needed more than anything else. Why exactly remained beyond him even now, but her willingness to play into something that he enjoyed in order to attain it struck him as cause for urgency.

Thus, he was urgent. On arrival at the foot of his bed, he peeled his shorts off of his waist, and in doing so exposed an impressive cudgel of bestially-vascular cockflesh whose qualities defied everything about his tiny frame. Owning a trunk length of just under 10 inches, a nauseating, fist-thick girth and a bee-stung, precum-glazed head of glans flesh whose redness (measuring from the inches of cockflesh leading up to it up through to his shaft’s peak) suggested it to be seconds away from exploding, the musk-soaked phallus was one that ought to have been rooted to the crotch of a male three times his age.

Completely undaunted by the organ regardless, Henri grasped its root with his left hand and climbed atop his bed without hesitation. Building off of the modest spread of Petra’s legs, he parted his bent knees to either side of her thighs and poised the gleaming rigidity of his erection down towards the pudgy lips teased from beneath the wobbling fat of her buttocks.

Then, he fell forward. Keeping the meat of his erection on target throughout, he dropped his upper body forward to drive his glans through a sloped depression into Petra’s cunt, and in doing so mushed the expanse of his crotch against the fat of her ass. Already acclimated to the taut, cock-draining gooiness of the canal between her lower lips and the suction-like tightness that it imposed on every inch of himself that he speared through her, his descent went unaltered until the collision of his crotch against her buttocks fat sent a sodden *PLORP!* rippling through the airspace most immediate to the pair.

Next, he reached upward. In ownership of a torso just long enough to feed his left arm up to parity with Petra’s neck, he coiled the crease between his forearm and bicep around her windpipe, then dragged the limb inward to compress it.

Though without the strength to do anything but addle his cousin’s oxygen intake, the act itself was not without purpose. Energized by the contraction of his arm, his tightening of this makeshift noose coincided with the compression of his toe tips into the surface of his mattress, and later, the delivery of a firm, cervix-kissing punch of his hilted cock through Petra’s cunt. Behind it, the constrictive convulsions that rippled through the hole’s congealed depths motivated him to begin ‘fucking up’ her insides as he had been asked to. As adept at the task as he was detached from it, he swiftly pushed himself into a metronome whose execution sent a mixture of wet *THUDS* and guttural *SPLORTS* rumbling out through the air for each stab that he completed.

Initially, however, these noises were inaudible.

Compared to the coherent grunting and cooing produced by Petra following her penetration, all of the other sounds attached to her fucking were borderline mute.

First to leave her throat were exclamations wrought from the spreading of her ruination-starved folds around the only cock that spread them the way that she preferred.

“Hiiiyughhhh— **F-FUCK** ♥!”

Then came cooed, hastily-uttered outbursts meant to coax her miniature partner into making his plunge-fucking of her folds as aggressive as possible.

“R-Right there ♥ R-Right f-fuckin’ there! Y-You’re helpin’ E-Eidos Light so **so** much~!” she exhaled. “Y-You’ve gotta squeeze my neck h-harder though, okay? I-If you beat up my cervix while I can still t-think it’s not gonna feel as good ♥.”

“F-Fuck up every single party of me, Henri! Choke me u-until I’m retarded so I can squeal l-like a fucking pig when I cum. Eidos Light is a f-fucking retard that deserves to die after getting basted full of cockjuice!”

Whereas the neediness in her voice may’ve suggested otherwise, Petra’s vulgar pleas for more abuse were entirely unrelated to Henri’s efforts. In his first thrust and each one he produced afterwards was the same combination of invasive bliss and satisfaction that kept her coming back to the boy time and time again.

Really, she was just greedy. Whilst receiving Henri’s downward angled thrusts and their repeated spreading of her slobbering folds, ‘wanting more’ was what she knew best.

Where he was concerned, all of the sexual experience she had accrued meant nothing. Via some combination of the effort that he invested into his thrusts and the fact that he was her youngest cousin, each and every bout of sex that they shared became a debilitatingly addictive experience to her.

Easily as one might chock up her circumstance to the degeneracy that she had allowed to fester within herself, most of the ‘blame’ for it lay with the boy at her back. Once entreated to make use of her and motivated to do so effectively, Henri never failed to subject the older woman’s innards to a violent masturbation session.

His latest was an ideal example of this consistency. After replacing the chest-to-back position he had used to depress himself into Petra’s folds with a deep, predatory squat that balanced his frame on the tips of his toes and dipped his chest down just short of contact with her lower back, his sole focus became a vigorous shovelling of his crotch inward and outward through the punishing compression imposed by her folds.

If taxing, making the execution of these thrusts ‘effective’ was not something that he needed to devote much thought to. By ‘settling’ with the retraction of just under half of his meat’s bloat back through the syrup-drenched embrace of her folds per thrust, the penetrative portions of these motions earned support from the sex-smeared bloat of Petra’s ass. The pace of his pumping ensured that each plunge only lasted a moment, but the sensation of his vein-studded member sinking through the squirming embrace of her innards—this being an experience that subjected it to enough suction and compression to squeeze the occasional blurt of precum out from its tip—was repeatedly complimented by sensations created from his crotch’s compression of her rear (specifically the momentary flattening of his lower body’s weight against the fleshy dump-truck and the sensation of his crotch sinking into it).Equally goaded and motivated by the sensations, their continual intensification eventually led him to supplement every handful of hilts that he completed with a balls-deep nuzzling of his crotch against her ass.

Albeit not to the extent of the curved plunges he produced, the outward retractions that preceded each of Henri’s thrusts still accrued its fair share of ‘gains’ from his position. With his arm wrapped around Petra’s neck, the ‘measurement’ of his retreats was kept in check by the backwards bend of her skull. Through it, consistently unplugging himself from her innards was as simple as wrenching his crotch out along the crescent-shaped path he had plunged it along and waiting for a twinge of tension to shoot through his arm before stopping.

Each no less haggard or splutter-laden than the last, these outward wrenches allowed him to experience the pressurized suction of his cousin’s folds at their very worst. As each one was executed all at once, the greed programmed into her depths induced a vice-like compression of her folds around the exterior of his shaft right as it began to slip away. Both meat and blood vessels smothered within a skin-tight sleeve of clamoring cuntmeat, the siphoning force that it exerted was such that blowing a load through her depths would have proved inevitable were any of his retreats actually stopped by her internal convulsions.

They weren’t, of course. Far too accustomed to the claustrophobic squishiness of her cunt to be truly stifled by it, Henri overcame these compressions right as they began. While the completion of his wrenches still succeeded in threading heavy bursts of cuntsyrup out of her cunt alongside his cock—the contents of which were immediately put to use glazing her rear and making the fleshly *PLORT!* noises induced by his thrusting that much louder—no amount of convulsion or suckling proved sufficient to stop the boy dead in his tracks.

He was far too motivated to be stopped. Presented with his favorite japanese female cartoon character often depicted in obscenely perverse sexual situations by niggas on the internet and yet another expression of need from his older cousin, selecting the best position possible for himself and making use of it to the best of his ability became responsibilities for him. Even when the potency of his thrusts began to feed disquieting amounts of pressure into the base of his crotch, his adherence to this mindset ensured that the energy that he invested into his thrusts went unchanged.

For a larger (and less impressionable) male, such selfless long-suffering would have required a longterm goal of some kind to validate it.

All Henri required was the knowledge that what he was doing met the strange criteria that Petra had tried time and time again to impress on him.

In search of confirmation one way or another, he eventually addressed the woman he was attempting to suffocate in a voice vastly inappropriate for the acts that he was performing.

“Feeling better yet, Eidos Lighter? It sorta just feels like it usually does, which is nice, but I dunno if that’s good enough for you right now.” he asked, words surrounded by a seemingly endless mixture of *SPLORT* and *PLATT* noises induced from his thrusts.

“You’re breathing is getting thinner, but that’s fine, right? A Puri Magica like you would never get turned into a mewling husk of squirting cuntmeat right away!”

“... But that’s actually the point this time, isn’t it? You said you wanted to squeal and cum like a stupid retard, so maybe I should squeeze a bunch more?”

Petra’s response to these suggestions came several seconds after they were placed. Though she heard them precisely as they were produced, mustering the wherewithal to respond to them required that she fish her psyche from out of the oxygen-deprived stupor it had fallen into and immediately afterwards apply it to something other than feeding her degeneracy—

All because her little cousin couldn’t help but speak out whilst in the middle of fucking her.

“N-No—one—asked—you—t-to—a-ask—t-that…♥” eventually, a hoarse, sex-worn response slithered from the older woman’s throat after repeated segmentations by the delivery of Henri’s thrusts. “‘F I wanted t’—gyughh ♥—t-think, I wouldn’t have told y’to f-fuck me until I ended up—niyghhh ♥—r-retarded.”

“D-Don’t fucking worry about m-me you stupid l-little idiottttttt! J-Just keep punching yourself t-through my c-cunt, I-If you do that, I won’t complain about ‘nything else!”

In spite of the perverse vehemence placed behind them, Petra’s retorts served only to motivate Henri to question her further. First tightening his arm’s compression of her neck (and ignoring the shrill “HHIIIGHH♥♥!” that it threaded out of her throat), he afterwards projected a worried expression towards the back of her head.

Oddly, the fact that he failed to actually make eye contact with her had no effect on the level of concern he injected into his voice.

“Does that count as “fucking up your insides”, though?” he asked, worriedly. “You’re a hero, Eidos Lighter; if I don’t gut this **squirting cocksleeve** you call a cunt just right, you might get sick or something!”

“Your insides might squirm and squeeze my cock more if I just keep fucking you, but I—”

“ **NO! NONONO, IT’S PERFECT**!”

Partway through Henri’s concerned stammering, the pressure that he added to Petra’s suffocation finally pushed one of the woman’s most deep-seated buttons. Out of nowhere, a thin outflow of blood was pressed through her left nostril, and a series of vigorous, syrup-spewing convulsions were conducted from her uterus down to the mouth of her cunt.

As greedy as ever, her first and only priority once overtaken by this bliss became perpetuating it for as long as she could.

“M-Moreeeee ♥. I can finally feel it in my fucking brain, H-Henri ♥.” she cooed. “F-Fuck my brain into mush, you’re almost there!”

“V-Violate Eidos Light like the child-fucking fleshlight she is ♥!”

Prompted in a manner that his brain was incapable of refusing, Henri forgot his concerns about his ‘cousin’ and recommitted himself to gouging himself in and out of her cunt as though his life depended on it. Thrusts sharpened and noose tightened, every ounce of energy that the boy had to give was suddenly injected into making his furious pummelling of her folds a more masturbatory experience for himself.

Unlike his initial pattern, this one took a visible toll on his frame almost immediately. Within seconds, his perspiring visage was drawn into a tooth-grit grimace befitting the mind-numbing exertion he was enduring, and the throbbing of his cock was pushed up to a pace that matched the fluttering of his heart.

More salient than either of these things were the changes made to his thrusting metronome. In addition to the acceleration of the motions and the raucous *SPLORT-PLAPP-SPLORT-PLAPP* that sounded out from Petra’s rear as a result, each buttocks-smothering plunge of his crotch became more vehement and prolonged, and each retraction of his length was shortened to an extent that barely extracted his cock from her folds’ embrace.

For Henri, these alterations equated to conformance. By making his depressions more aggressive and his retractions more selfish, he felt that the fucking he was doling out would become even more enjoyable for his favorite superheroine.

For Petra, they equated to a vivid mixture of narcotic bliss. Per depression of Henri’s cock, orgasmic bursts of cuntsyrup from her folds were squeezed out into splatters against the boy’s crotch and lower abdominals. Each wrought from the perpetual writhing of his cock veins against her folds and his glans’ repeated surging up against her cervix, the odds of her enduring these orgasms until her brain actually rotted were made stronger with each stab he completed.

Again, her innards had no choice where this was concerned. Teased by the precum-greased grinding of superheated glans flesh through the most congealed portions of her depths, then punished by the nauseatingly-pleasant thuds that the flesh-helmet delivered against the face of her cervix, the conduction of brain-rotting orgasms through her uterus was one of very few coping mechanisms left available them.

As if this were not enough by itself, the onset of the boy’s new thrusting pattern prompted her to use her warped grey matter to think about where she was and what she was doing. Her brain had been mutilated by stimulation to the point of bleeding and her cunt was being subjugated by the same boy who had put the sensation’s taste in her mouth so many months ago.

And yet, she was content. For as much shame and frustration as her interactions with her cousin installed within her, what they reaped—the vile, degenerative pleasure that they reaped—had again proved itself to be something that she couldn’t walk away from.

Even if, deep down, some part of her wished to.

“Higyuhh ♥! G-Gonna cum! G-Getting rutted like this is gonna make me c-cum again!” visage warped to present the manic bliss that had taken root within her skull, another perverse announcement as to her condition eventually rose to the top of Petra’s throat.

Behind it, what little candor her utterances maintained was exchanged for what her biology believed to be the best means of getting what she wanted.  
  
  
“Splatter it all inside me! Drown my eggs in goopy brat jizz; turn my whole fucking womb into a cratered dumpster for your cockjuice, Henri!”

  
“Fillmefillmefillme~! Stain my insides with your cockjuice again—show my them that they’ll always be addicted to your cock!”

“Show me that I’m just another disgusting pedo—♥♥♥!”

Thanks to Petra’s outburst, the end result of one of Henri’s thrusts finally robbed the boy of his poise. Teeth grit and gaze drawn cross-eyed, the surge of heated, days-thickened semen through his urethra disabled him straight after the eruption of his length began. Worsened for each inch his first strand of cockjuice travelled, its eventual expulsion out against the face of Petra’s cervix drew his bruising compression of her neck up to a new severity in tightness whilst a desperate, distinctly-juvenile outburst exploded from his throat.

“Take all my cockjuice, Eidos Lighter! You gotta be the best retard you can so the Corruption Beasts don’t win!” he exclaimed.

“I’m gonna help lots too! Your insides are gonna have to chug my cum until they’re sick of it!”

Whilst Henri yelled about his frame’s intent, his semen went about realizing it. Via the first strand of cockjuice discharged from his length, a canal-clogging ‘wad’ of semen was created directly overtop her cervix. Considerable enough to completely drown the sex-fattened button whilst also consuming the entirety of her vaginal canal’s deepest, slickest pocket, the settlement of this wad and the squirming, super-heated weight it introduced into Petra’s folds coaxed her reproductive organs into yet another display of submission. Much like a pair of lips starved for moisture, the greased exterior of her cervix dilated, and later descended to consume the spurting nose of his member alongside the contents of the first handful of semen threads regurgitated into her depths.

Biologically speaking, they had been checkmated. Confronted with balmy strands of a substance owning a thickness and texture comparable to a mixture of industrial adhesives and resins as pressed through a tube of toothpaste—one coincidentally loaded with countless nutrient-fattened tadpoles’ worth of generic material and a fluid property that presented it as chunked or ‘peaty’ once settled—‘consumption’ was what her vaginal canal and uterus were programmed to do. When it became apparent that the first few cunt-clogging ejections of semen from Henri’s length were only the beginning of his orgasm, making themselves more ‘receptive’ to their eventual inundation became their foremost priority. Acting before the digestive *BLORTS* that echoed from her midsection could be intensified by the continued compaction of semen against itself, her depths worked with one another to ensure that as much of Henri’s release as possible was taken directly into Petra’s uterus.

The availing of her depths like this proved fruitful in more ways than one. Per usual, the mudslide of baby-resin sucked onto the top face of her uterus (i.e. Petra is laid flat on her stomach) behind her cervix’s dilation was complimented by pressurized bursts of the same gross, bright-clay-colored sludge against the organ’s roof. Laid out from this point down through messy vertical bisections of his length, the girth and number of these flourishes obscured the ‘floor space’ provided to them until only specs of Petra’s liquorice-colored uterine lining remained visible. Beyond this point, the melted-cheese paste took on the task of filling the organ like a miniature balloon. Per spurt released, the pooling of cockjuice within it was fed a volume sufficient to push its ‘water level’ upwards as a faucet might a plugged sink. One by one, strands initially recognizable as ‘separate’ from the pool they were blasted across were made unrecognizable amidst the semi-solid pond of nut that took shape within her.

Among the more ‘expected’ aspects of her uterus’ decision to chug semen was one far less typical than the others. Thus far subjected to a stimulation potent enough to affect her brain and uterus simultaneously, Petra lay reduced to a state of cross-eyed debilitation similar to what her younger cousin had endured.

Unlike him, however, she had not lost her ability to process what was happening to her. The wriggling of sperm cells against the entranceways to her fallopian tubes had left her tongue-tied throughout the beginnings of Henri’s release, but in the present, she remained just conscious enough to babble about what was occurring within her within her own head.

This was not to say that she did so effectively, however.

“D-Dick milllkkk ♥. M-My stupid brat cousin’s greasy cockjuice is swelling my womb. I-I squealed like an actual animal for minutes on end and now I might actually end up getting bred by one.” she thought to herself. “I-I love it so much, though ♥. I’m totally beyond help, but getting to feel such thick cockjuice clog my holes m-makes me want to do this more and more…”

“I-I’m going to end up forcing things a lot more at this rate. I-I really am a fucked-up sludge-dumpster addicted to my baby cousin’s semen…”

To reiterate, none of the babbling that she produced was very far off from describing reality. From the shudder-inducing discharge of a single ovum through her tubing into her womb to the complete consumption of her uterus’ natural volume with semen, nothing about the event was truly a mystery to her.

If one was to go so far as arguing against her self-ascriptions—presuming anyone privy to them (no one because this passage is pointless) cared to—this same person would have to accept that the continuation of Henri’s orgasm was all but guaranteed to leave her pregnant…

Until it wasn’t.

Whether by virtue of some seething urge nestled within his core or the budding perversion that his cousin had rooted within his core, Henri eventually abandoned his chest-to-back slump against Petra in search of more satisfaction for himself.

Unlocking the now-impotent noose he had sealed around her neck, he pushed off of her frame with the same springy ease that one might imagine for any other 7-year-old. Stuttered in his ascent just slightly by the monolithic extraction of his cock from the semen-glutted depths of her folds (enough so for a stray thread of semen or so to be messily plastered across the fat of her asscheeks), he nevertheless denied himself a glance at the gaped and resin-stuffed state of her lower lips in favor of a surge inward.

Member in hand, his ingress stopped just short of Petra’s faces. Here, he furiously stroked his length from midsection to tip in a selfish attempt at draining out what remained of his orgasm all over the older woman’s face.

Truthfully, what remained of his release was no less substantial than the fraction of it responsible for bloating Petra’s uterus. Within a handful of strokes, gluey streaks of cock juice as lengthy as the child-sized forearm responsible for stroking them out were doled out across the right side of Petra’s face in numbers sufficient to totally obscure the pale-peach flesh underneath them.

Some threads thickened at their midsection by the amount of time their constituents had spent within Henri’s balls and others lengthier and more chewable than their predecessors, their delivery spared no part of his ‘target area’ contact with his steaming nut. The majority of them were draped from the right edge of her forehead down to her chin, but per the haphazard nature of his strokes, some were nastily welled within the ‘pocket’ above her cheek and below her eye, and others were focused towards the midsection of her cheek long enough to form layered wads across its expanse.

Indifferent to where his seed ended up and what became of Petra’s face as a result, Henri concerned himself solely with stroking himself to completion. Internally, the fact that he was smearing his cousin’s face with his semen was the only thing about the act that mattered to him.

If selfish at a glance, this decision was among the best that he could have made for the two of them.

Were one to take the bliss-addled grin spread out across Petra’s face as any indication, having her face plastered with semen was the only thing that she cared about as well.

-

**PROGRESS**

For reasons that neither of the pair truly understood, the aftermath of Petra and Henri’s latest sexual interaction did not immediately devolve into another bout of sex.

Oddly, early signs put off by the event suggested further sex between them to be an inevitability. Spent from her fucking, Petra rolled off of her stomach and adopted a back-first sprawl across Henri’s mattress in hopes of catching her breath. Much less worn in comparison, Henri understood her presenting herself this way as an open invitation to continue making use of her frame as he wished.

So he did. A child through and through, he flopped atop the sweat-greased exterior of her breasts and made himself comfortable until the throbbing of his heart slowed to a rate that he could actually deal with.

Normally, the combination of these things was liable to result in one of the pair falling asleep whilst the other watched them slumber. Upon the slumbering party’s awakening, the restoration of their ‘watcher’s’ libido typically resulted in an immediate imposition of groping or grinding that in turn bled into another bout of intercourse.

No such thing occurred this time around, however. Held conscious within the humid haze of sweat and musk that their sex had created, both Henri and Petra used their time against one another to think.

Henri’s thoughts concerned what he wished to do next. Being the younger and sprier of the pair, his return to a state of function saw him peel his face off of the sweat-peppered breasts beneath it and move back to an upright position on the floor adjacent to his bed. After a short trip over to his computer and an adjustment of the larger flat screen mounted beside his desktop monitor, he returned to the surface of his bed to resume relaxing with his cousin.

For a time, Petra’s thoughts concerned how she’d excuse herself from Henri’s bedroom without actually speaking to him. Around the time Henri replaced himself atop the mattress surface beside her, her resolve to leave was dissolved by the sound of a familiar Japanese theme song and the annoyance that it evoked in her.

Several seconds later, she opened her eyes and turned her gaze towards its source. There, depicted across the television beside Henri’s monitor was the opening sequence of “Puri Magica Eidos Lighter”: a painful reminder as to the contents of the past hour if ever there was one.

Temper cooled by the sexual satiation buzzing within her brain, Petra responded to the sight by sitting upright beside her cousin and lazily focusing her attentions on the episode that he had put on.

Familiar enough with the show by virtue of her vague familiarity with most of Henri’s interests, watching it in silence came naturally to her for a time. Eventually, though, the show’s contents brought more ‘typical’ behavior out of her. Met in kind by familiar behavior from her younger cousin, a conversation active enough to obscure the subtitled dialogue of the episode soon took shape between them—

A normal one, relative to their off-color definition of the term.

“…So how is that new ditz in the other outfit different from Eidos Lighter? Don’t they do the same thing?” Petra started, voice surprisingly unaffected by the wadded globs of cum leaking from between her lower lips. “If they do, what’s the point of having more of them? To sell toys or something?”

Attention equally split between the show and his cousin, Henri managed his participation in their conversation without once taking his eyes off of his television screen.

“That’s Lapus Belle. She uses the Aqua Eidos for her powers instead of Eidos’ ‘Amore Core’.” he explained. “They both do the same thing, but the Aqua Eidos is stronger against Corruption Beasts that have the earth element. You know, like in games.”

“No, I don’t know, actually.” retorted Petra. “I guess it makes sense if Eidos can’t do it by herself or something, but that other girl doesn’t seem as cut out for it as she is. Is that because different losers are addicted to different types or girls or something?”

“Sort of? Lapus gets a lot better later on, but it’s hard for all of the Eidos holders when they start.” Henri continued. “I think the writing people just want to show the people watching that different characters would deal with having powers differently.”

“Oh yeah? Is that why her tits are so much bigger than Eidos’, or am I missing something else?”

“I…don’t know? The two of them look different, but I think they’re cute in different ways.”

“God, do you hear yourself when you talk? You’re never going to get laid if you keep talking about cartoon characters like that.”

“What’s “getting laid”?”

“It’s what you won’t do the longer you keep watching little girl cartoons all day.”

“But I don’t do it all day.”

“Uh, actually, I know for a fact you d—”

**“We do stuff together all the time, don’t we?”**

In another state, the sudden turn taken in their conversation was likely to have led Petra into corporally punishing her cousin for doing absolutely nothing.

As she was presently, however, both her heart and head settled on palliative action far less severe in nature. Fighting the warmth within her cheeks all the while, she reached her right arm out into an envelopment of her cousin’s neck and dragged his face into a collision with the right side of her breasts’ mass.

Once certain that her face was hidden from his line of sight, she spoke.

“S-Shut up, faggot.” she exhaled weakly.

“Why?” Henri replied, voice muffled by breast flesh.

“Because I’m trying to watch your gay little show for girls with you, that’s why.”

“Stupid.”


	2. Trading Promises for Violent Intercourse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The extremely questionable 'relationship' maintained between Petra and Henri Athelas is expanded upon and escalated. Now firmly invested in portraying cartoon characters to make her younger cousin violate her, Petra unwittingly signs herself up to take Henri to the midnight release event for some japanese cartoon memorabilia. 
> 
> Somehow, this results in her dressing up again, and being facefucked violently enough to induce several disgusting consequences atop a breakroom couch, the majority of which concern semen and reguirgitation.

**THE ATHELAS RESIDENCE—7 MONTHS PRIOR**

Closely arranged throughout the quietly lavish confines of a living room were a trio of individuals related by blood. Whilst Henri Athelas—the smallest and youngest of those present—sat by himself atop the living room’s couch, his aunt and older cousin stood consumed within the third minute of a staring contest initiated from the moment that they entered the room.

Being the only one of the three of them uninvested in where they were and what they were doing, Henri silently attended to his relatives in a manner that kept him removed from whatever was between them. Red eyes focused through the soft grey curtaining constituted by the lengthy mop of hair that flowed from his head, he kept his eyes peeled for anything that even vaguely resembled action from the pair.

Whether or not they acted was not especially important to him. At present, very little was; a wealth of memories concerning things that mattered to him persisted within his mind, but the fraction of his self that was supposed to cherish these things remained far too numb to latch onto them.

As such, the gaze that he directed up at the two of them was devoid of anticipation. What defined it instead was empty curiosity—the sort that any other child might’ve produced if made to look on something that they did not understand.

Made weightless as a result, his stare did not affect his relatives’ stalemate. Throughout 3 minutes of silence within the living room, the two of them appeared perfectly happy to continue glaring at each other into eternity.

Past this point, Callis Athelas allowed her frustration to drive her into speech.

“Alright, fair enough. You two will have plenty of time to become acquainted later, so I suppose it’s fine if I start here.” she began, thinly. “Petra, you remember your younger cousin, don’t you? It’s been a few years since you saw him last, so in case you’ve forgotten, this is Henri.”

“Your father and I have decided that he’ll be living here from now on. His doctors advised against allowing him to be adopted, but to honest, I’d have wanted to even if that wasn’t the case. We have more than enough space here, and ultimately, family should be with family.”

Arms crossed underneath the ridiculous mass of her hoodie-enveloped bust, Petra met her mother’s words with a succinct retort sharpened by indifference.

A lifetime spent as her mother’s daughter warned her against this action, but the foundation of her personality left her with no choice.

“And? Why am I here?” she spat. “It’s great that you and Dad want to play house—I’m fine with it, really. What I’m not fine with is being involved with it, so if you were thinking about making me play big sister, you’ve got another thing—”

“I wouldn’t use those words, but that’s exactly what you’re going to do, Petra.”

Interjecting smoothly, Callis produced an utterance dominated by a frigid force that her daughter was certain to recognize. With it, she earned silent frustration from Petra alongside the ‘floor’ of their discourse in the same breath.

“Your father and I have done our best to give you the freedom that you need to figure out your life. We weren’t critical of you for leaving school, and we haven’t pressed you to think about going back or finding a job in the year that’s passed since then.” she continued. “Be that as it may, you’re 25, Petra. You’re as much an adult as either of us—right down to the responsibilities you’re capable of fulfilling.”

“We’re not asking you to raise Henri. The only thing we’re expecting is for you to use your time at home to help him feel like he’s a part of this family. He won’t be going to school until his evaluations start suggesting that he can handle it, so you’ll be spending a lot of time together at home regardless.” she explained. “I understand that the two of you weren’t raised as siblings—really, you’re almost old enough to be his mother. Regardless, he stands to benefit from this more than I can explain to you right now.”

“So, until I say otherwise, can I count on you to be there for him while I’m not around?”

Behind this utterance, Callis steeled herself against all manner of potential responses from her daughter. If far from rotten in the fundamental sense, the life that she had led since the development of her body had began in earnest had made her more flippant and lackadaisical than she had been as a child. Taken alongside the ‘adult indifference’ that had invaded her in recent years, she could not safely assume that Petra’s silence would translate out to her agreeing to the tasks set out for her.

Quizzically, as if to defy her at every turn, Petra did exactly this. After taking in the request alongside the rationale provided with it, a short-lived tightening of her facial features bled into a downward shift of her gaze towards Henri. Then, after several seconds of taking in the indifferent blankness spread across his face, she resumed eye-contact with her wearing an expression dispossessed of its former aggression.

At this, her hands fell away from the underside of her breasts, and her eyes curled exasperatedly within their sockets.

“…Whatever. It’s not like I’m doing anything else.” she huffed, dryly. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t burn the house down while you’re gone. I don’t know anything about the kind of shit that kids enjoy these days, so if he starts complaining about the way I do things, that’s on you.”

“I’m his cousin, not his babysitter. As long as we’re clear on that, I’ll help out wherever you want me to.”

Taken aback by her daughter’s pliancy, Callis found herself without an immediate response to her terms. By way of reflex, she produced a nod of her head meant to obscure her speechlessness, and afterwards pushed a short smile of approval across her lips.

Juvenile even as she persisted through her mid-twenties, Petra took these things to mean that she had made her mother happy. Still a slave to the positive affect installed within parental approval, she immediately moved to supplement it with another display of good faith.

Stepping forward, she brought herself directly opposite Henri’s seat at the couch, then bent her upper body downward at the hip. Somehow stable in spite of the mass of her breasts pulling down on her chest, she seamlessly followed up this gesture with another glare at her younger cousin’s face.

This time, though, she made something of it.

“I’m Petra. You were like, 3 or something last time we met, but I’m only going to remind you this once.” she began, quietly. “Apparently we’re going to be living together from now on. I’ll try to look out for you as long as you’re not a brat about any of it, so don’t be afraid to ask if you need something, ok?”

Inexplicably, Henri did not have to think about how to respond to Petra. At the sight of her face, a mixture of fear and felt familiarity prompted him to wordlessly nod his head in agreement.

For this response, he earned a short smile from Petra, and an envelopment of his right hand into her left.

“Glad we understand each other. Now, I already know what my Mom is going to ask me to do next, so let’s go figure out your bedroom. I’ve got other shit to do today, so the sooner it’s done, the better.” voice no less annoyed than it had been throughout her conversation with the woman at her side, Petra followed up this utterance with a mild tug at his arm.

Yet again, Henri’s body responded for him. Before he knew how or why, his legs were carrying him throughout the confines of a house that he hardly recognized.

But he was comfortable. Seemingly without any reservations as to what was happening to him, his better judgement turned his line of sight back towards the living room before he and Petra departed from it.

There, Callis stood in the midst of waving the two of them off. No anxiety could be seen in her face, and the looseness in her posture suggested complete comfort with the product of proceedings.

Through this, Henri was moved to the same conclusion that any other child would’ve made:

So long as he was here, everything would be fine.

-

**7 MONTHS LATER— THE ATHELAS RESIDENCE – HENRI ATHELAS’ BEDROOM**

Petra’s middle-twenties were years defined by several firsts. At 24, she began actively refusing advances from men within her age group for the first time in over a decade. At 25, she began investing her free time—of her own volition—into looking after a child for the first time in her life. Then, at 26, she openly embraced a slew of other ‘firsts’ whose contents defied everything that she had come to expect of herself.

Unlike those that had preceded them, the firsts that she enjoyed at 26 became ‘norms’ within her life directly after she experienced them. Further, as some were far more ludicrous than others, the instances at which she experienced these ‘others’ became forgettable for her. Only vaguely aware of the fact that each one represented a significant departure from the previous state of her life, she made no attempts at avoiding them, and even went out of her way to increase the frequency with which she indulged in them all on her own.

Foremost amongst these ‘firsts-turned-norms’ was her newfound comfort with swirling her tongue against the back of her younger cousin’s throat whilst drinking his saliva and breathing in the stale, humid stench of their sex.

At no point throughout any of the years prior to this one had she envisioned herself feeling comfortable with such an act. On top of its defiance of what she then believed to be the ‘root’ of her sexual preferences, it also marked her as an adult woman both willing and interested in drinking the saliva of a 7-year-old.

As such, it had been unthinkable for her—both utterly and completely.

Presently, it still was. However, the pleasure that she derived from suckling to the miniature length of her cousin’s tongue post intercourse was such that she did not see any need for her to think about where it was coming from. Instead, she devoted all of her focus to enjoying yet another Friday evening with Henri, and laying the foundation for his next fulfillment of her depravity.

Expectedly, focusing herself on these things had resulted in a certain amount of ‘tunnel vision’ with regards to her approach. Since rolling off of her back into a sweaty, chest-to-chest smothering of Henri’s frame that provided her with just enough space to press her lips down into contact with his own, making certain that their kiss was comfortable for him as well had yet to cross her mind. Upon propping up some of her weight on the undersides of her forearms, pecking, slurping, and nuzzling her lips against his own—as opposed to stoking his arousal—became main priorities.

By the time she recalled what it was she was supposed to be doing, several minutes had elapsed—minutes that she had initially intended to use in a very particular manner for a very particular purpose.

Completely ignorant to what she had lost, her first effort after regaining herself was a slobber-laden unholstering of her tongue from Henri’s throat, and the depression of a nervously-perverse smile down at his sweat-plastered features.

Her next was a continuation of the same ‘act’ that had allowed her to progress to this point with the youth in the first place.

“Fuuu…”

“I’ve now managed to suck all of the antidote that I need out of your throat, Henri ♥. With all of the **clotted babyjuice** you dumped into my cunt, I should have more than enough energy to carry out all of my duties now.” she exhaled, satisfaction dripping from her tone. “If I can have just a little more abuse for the night, you’ll have helped me accomplish sooooooo much.”

“U-Uh…”

“Kyun ♥.”

Slow to recall some of the more minute mannerisms displayed by the character that she was portraying, Petra nevertheless made certain to fit in at least one before she finished speaking. Past this point, she supplemented her address with a girlish wink, then dipped her skull downwards to continue her famished slurp against Henri’s lips.

Just short of contact, a response from the boy delayed her second ingress even further than it already had been.

“T-That’s good, I’m glad! I’ve never seen you weak enough to not be able to manifest your uniform, s-so it’s probably a good thing that I helped as much as I did.” he chirped, sweat-peppered features brightened by a strained smile. “I think I’m getting kinda worse the more I try to help, but I’ll try my hardest! I think there should be just enough time for me—”

***HMMMMMMMM***

“too…”

“Oh no!”

From a state of apparent fatigue, the hum of a vibrating smartphone against the fabric of Henri’s mattress dragged the boy into a state of panic. Wriggling out from underneath his cousin like a fish from the threading of a net, he burst into a hurried sift through the discarded mass of bedsheets at the other side of the mattress in search of the device.

Upon unearthing it and unlocking it, the panic driving his motions seeped into his facial features. Apparently traumatized by something observed on the device’s screen, his dismay prompted him to thrust the device towards his bed-set cousin so that she might understand where it was coming from.

Well aware of the fact that this behavior was likely too petulant to be understood, he continued speaking after doing so as well.

“Petra, it’s almost midnight! Will we still be able to make it to the release?” he exclaimed. “If we don’t get in line early, we probably won’t be able to get a copy!”

“This isn’t just a normal release; it’s **Puri Magica Eidos Lighter Shining Love Max** , remember?”

With this, Petra at last became aware of the time she had squandered making out with her cousin. Whilst wallowing in the euphoria of her fucking and the avid squirm of sperm cells within her cunt, she had forgotten that the latest of her Friday nights with him was to be very different from the norm.

Weeks prior, she had promised to escort Henri to the midnight release event for physical copies of the Puri Magica Eidos Lighter Shining Love Max movie. Described then as an unreleased movie from the series bundled with additional development content, its importance to him resulted in his pestering her to take him to it until she agreed.

A woman of mild greed and pragmatism, Petra did not allow herself to bend to his wishes for free. Despite maintaining a cursory interest in the series herself, she used their agreement to rope her younger cousin into several evenings of intercourse not unlike the one they had enjoyed in the present.

Tragically, a dutiful reminder from Henri on the night of was not enough to make the event ‘stick’ within her mind. After several hours of sex and suffocation, her promise was ghosted out of her mind right up until she laid eyes on the face of Henri’s phone.

At the sight of it, exasperation consumed her before she could do anything to mitigate it.

“God, fuuuuuck. Do I really still have to take you to that?” she complained, wearily. “I really don’t want to have to stand in line with a bunch of weird, smelly faggots for two hours, Henri. Honestly, even if I did want to do it, I wouldn’t want to be _seen_ doing it.”

“W-Wouldn’t it be nicer if we just stayed in tonight instead? There’s no way that they’re going to just sell out of it in 1 night, so we can just go and pick it up tomorrow.” she continued. “I know that’s not exactly what I said, but…”

Believing herself to be an adept negotiator where her cousin was concerned, Petra dragged out the end point of her offer out so as to gauge Henri’s response to it.

  
Typically, most every compromise that she offered was accepted by him without much difficulty—hence her belief that this one would be no different. In reality, though, a mixture of Henri’s mildness and his understanding of Petra’s status as an adult significantly influenced his acceptance of her offers.

Where promises were concerned, neither of these influences held their usual weight. Believing himself to be completely entitled to the event, Petra’s words pushed rigid frustration into his features, and sealed his lips lest they be tempted into compromise.

At the sight of these things, Petra was deflated for a second time. Evidently, she would not be allowed to worm her way out of her promise so easily.

“F-Fuck, fine. You can stop making that face—I was just making a suggestion.” she huffed. “We’d have to leave right now to even have a chance at getting in line, though. Meaning that I’m going to have to just drag some clothes on…”

“Meaning that I’m going to smell like and look like complete shit for hours. A-And I guess you’re still going to make me do it anyway?”

In response to this, the frustration on Henri’s face disappeared. Instead of speaking on the subject, he effortlessly slipped off of the opposite end of his mattress and circled around it to the side that Petra sat atop.

Here, he pecked a light kiss against the edge of her cheek, then hugged himself against the left side of her frame.

“It’ll be ok! You always look good, remember?” he chirped, airily. “If anyone says otherwise, I’ll just tell them that they’re wrong.”

No further assurance slipped from his lips beyond this point. Utterly certain in himself and his abilities, he subsequently unwrapped his arms from Petra’s frame to embark on a hurried collection of clothing within his bedroom.

Innards warmed to a temperature hotter than what she had acquired from her kiss with the boy, Petra found herself far less distressed by the idea of their outing throughout the seconds that followed.

She knew why as well. Nonetheless unwilling to acknowledge it, she turned her refreshed attentions to making the fulfillment of her promise as painless as possible.

In doing so, she happened upon a solution to her plight far sooner than she might’ve otherwise.

A glance at Henri’s closet was all that it took to hit her:

Petra Athelas did not need to escort Henri to the 2D Japanese Female Cartoon Memorabilia store. Provided that _someone_ was with him, their identity was unimportant…

Even if this identity was ficitional.

-

**2D JAPANESE CARTOON FEMALE MEMORABILIA STORE—10:45PM**

At no point throughout the 7 months she had spent as a patron to the 2D Japanese Cartoon Female Memorabilia Store could Petra recall it being busier than it was when she and Henri arrived at it.

While by no means a dying business, the niche products that it stocked and the sometimes-abnormal clientele that it served led her to regard it as a place that would never be filled to the brim with customers. As well, most every visit that she paid to the store with Henri presented its patronage as being sparse at best. No matter the aisle that she was dragged through, the two of them were almost always the only customers present.

When met with a line of customers long enough to wrap around the street behind the one that the store was built on, the ‘image’ Petra maintained of the store was changed for good. From the mouth of the store-front down through the initial portion of its lineup, the presence of uniform-clad employees and expensive artificial lighting presented it as being no different from a massive department store.

Comprising the line itself were scores of the same ‘abnormal enthusiasts’ she recalled laying eyes on within the store itself. Now within their element, some stood in the midst of lively conversations with other enthusiasts whilst others bounced their gazes between their phones and the line ahead of them in anticipation of its movement.

That the release of a simple blu-ray™ box-set was capable of drawing so many people to a single store confused Petra at first. It was not until she successfully pulled Henri halfway down through the store’s lineup that a rationale for what she was observing occurred to her:

Up until this point, the two of them had only visited the store outside of its peak hours. In the same way seasonal department stores attracted conventional shoppers with sales, limited releases of popular memorabilia were apparently capable of motivating droves of ‘enthusiasts’ to brave the outside world in search of them.

Had this epiphany come to her at any other point in time, its product was likely to have been additional frustration for her. At this one, though, Petra stood capable of taking advantage of it.

Recognizing this, she turned her gaze down to anxious boy at her side.

“It’s okay. It’s my fault that we’re late, but I’m not about to stand in line for hours for us to get nothing.” she started, wearily. “I’ve got an idea, but if you tell anyone about this, I swear to god I’ll kill you.”

“That’s not a joke, either.”

No sooner did these words leave her lips did Petra begin dragging the two of them back up along the line they had descended down. Careful to stick to what portions of it were lit the least, she hurriedly cleared the distance that separated them from the mouth of the store before stepping out mere feet from the entrance.

Once exposed, she pushed all of her situational ‘chips’ into the center of her table.

“Um, excuse me!” speaking in a tone far sweeter than she should’ve been capable of, she raised her free hand towards the pair of employees managing the store’s entrance. “I’m sorry, I know that there’s a line we should be in. I was just wondering if maybe you two could do me a favor…”

“Kyun.”

As would have been the case if any other voice had beckoned to them, the sound of Petra’s turned the doormen towards its source in preparation to rebuke its owner.

However, neither did.

Rather, they couldn’t. To firmly deny an extremely voluptuous and accurately-dressed depiction of Puri Magica Eidos Lighter a mere hour before the midnight release of a movie that she had starred in was to deny everything that they held dear.

Ahead of them, a young woman owning a head of back-length baby-pink hair tied into thick, up-set ponytail that matched the size and shape of Eidos Lighter’s human alter-ego stood in the midst of asking them a question. Peachy facial features framed by bust-length extensions of the same pink hair and forehead deftly curtained by bangs of it, the sight of her from the front aptly recreated the feminine appeal responsible for drawing so many into the series in the first place.

These features were not why the pair failed to deny her, of course. After a short stint of processing the young woman’s strangely sweaty facial features, their eyes naturally gravitated down to the massive, perspiration-glossed eyesores dominating her chest. Enveloped at their fringes by what appeared to be a cream-colored school uniform cardigan were breasts more than twice the size of her skull. Though the nipple and areola affixed to them were ‘tastefully’ covered by the garments halves, the natural mounds’ forward sloping and deliciously-obese fattiness compensated for this with the presentation of a torso’s worth of puffy cleavage. Abnormally moist at a glance (and peppered with a lone pair of pubes upon closer observation), their qualities collectively constituted a perverse form of magnetism for the male eye. Whether via their tantalizing compression against one another or their heavy, watermelon-like shaping, the bloated teardrops offered a form of appeal for ‘enthusiasts’ of all sorts.

Were either of the doormen capable of wrenching their eyes away from her cleavage, countless other aspects of the young woman’s frame sat exposed in a manner designed to earn clemency from the opposite sex. Above her breasts, the sleeves of her cardigan were drawn off of her shoulders so as to draw more attention to the bare flesh of her torso. Below them, the closure of her cardigan bled into a lower hem stretched by what could only be vibrantly fertile hips, and the beginnings of a dangerously-short skirt whose length stopped an inch or so past the exposure of her crotch. Presuming one dared to look past the suggestively-dense moisture caked across her inner thighs, their street pole-girth thickness and the dense excess of calve-sock fabric drooping below her knees laid in wait to draw an individual even deeper into the illusion that she was presenting.

Effectively, the doormen had their hands tied from the moment they turned to acknowledge her. Without an impetus stronger than the appeal of the young woman’s body, adhering to her voice was all that they could do—

Midnight release or no.  
  
  
“See, my younger cousin here is a huuuuuge fan of Eidos Lighter.” continuing warmly, Petra paused briefly to raise Henri’s hand alongside her own and reiterate their coupling. “I promised that I’d take him to this release event weeks ago, but I, ah…”

“I-I got held up at work, kyun. I’m sure you guys must know what that’s like, haha…”

“Anyway! I don’t want him to miss his chance to get the boxset because of me. I know what I’m asking isn’t very fair to everyone waiting in line, but is there **any way** that the two of us can wait inside until the release? Just to make sure that we’re close enough to getting a copy?” this time inflecting her voice to project an irresistibly juvenile sadness, Petra followed up its release with the presentation of an equally worried expression across her face, and a timed inward dipping of her torso that made her breasts even more difficult to miss.

Failure was not an option; if even a single stone went unturned with regards to her approach, one could argue that she wasn’t trying hard enough.

  
“Pleaaaaaase? I’m kinda a fan of the series too, in case you couldn’t tell, so you’d really be doing both of us a big favor...” she added.

“And those are the kind that **_have_** to be repaid, aren’t they?”

Unbeknownst to Petra, the end portion of her request was tantamount to beating a long dead horse. Directly after hearing the flimsy rationale behind her request, both of the doormen began preparing stern warnings to utter before letting her into the store.

After hearing her mention of favors, they mutually abandoned this activity. Simultaneously, they stepped forward to obscure her frame, then stepped apart to allow her to sneak past them with Henri.

This done, the man to the left of the entrance addressed her out of the corner of his mouth.

“We have a breakroom that you two can sit in at the back of the store. Go straight inside and tell the guy at the desk that Garcia is letting you wait in there.” he whispered. “If you can stick around after the event for some pictures, consider us square.”

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Petra proceeded forward without another word.

Whatever was implied by the doorman’s use of the word ‘pictures’, she believed it would be a paltry price to pay relative to waiting in line for hours.

As well, she wouldn’t be the one paying, either. Until she discarded the outfit she had donned, all of her responsibilities belonged to a young woman by the name of Eidos Lighter—

In part, at least.

-

**THE BREAKROOM— 11:00PM**

Though only 7 years of age, Henri’s approach to life was largely defined by his willingness to accept certain means in exchange for certain ends. In return for interactions with his older cousin as the heroine Eidos Lighter—this being an end—he happily imposed all manner of sexual degradation and brutality on her—this being a means. Similarly, in return for the repression of his parents’ accident into the deepest recesses of his heart—this being an end—he openly embraced over-indulgence in all manner of wild Japanese cartoons where giants and shit be rolling up and eating niggas and Zouken fucks up his niece or granddaughter with insects I forget which one—this being a means.

Just slightly too young to comprehend the system that he was operating under, his understanding of it was simplified to the rejection of things that he disliked and his striving towards things that he liked. Yet to encounter a situation wherein the means that he utilized failed to reap his desired end, he was not required to think much about the process, either. If and when he did, his doing so was geared towards assessing whether or not the work that he put in and the ‘thing’ that he obtained were equivalent.

The latest bout of ‘assessment’ that he engaged in came several minutes after he and Petra entered the breakroom pointed out to them. Yanked from states of excitement, to anxiety, and finally back to excitement by his cousin’s efforts, their stowing away within the room provided him with an opportunity to sit and reflect on everything that had transpired.

By going along with his cousin’s strange desires—desires that were sometimes enjoyable and sometimes strenuous for him—he now sat only minutes way from being one of the first people to obtain Puri Magica Eidos Lighter Shining Love Max boxset.

Everything considered, the exchange seemed reasonable. A few weeks of exertion and an evening of anxiety in return for a boxset of blurays: a fair trade if there ever was one.

In his satisfaction with this assessment, Henri neglected to consider whether or not the juncture he chose for it was correct.

A spacy and somewhat wistful child by nature, his failure to grasp this immediately was both forgivable and predictable—provided one was familiar with him, of course.

Being one such person, Petra did not feel at all slighted by his shortcomings. Initially content to wait for him to connect the remaining dots of their situation, she eventually abandoned this activity by extending her left hand across the couch into a telling impression against the face of his right thigh.

This done, she took it upon herself to point out his mistake in her own special way.

“…Since it seems like you haven’t realized it yet, I’m just going to say it now: you owe me for that shit I had to do at the door.” she began, calmly. “I’ll be having nightmares about that for the rest of my life. T-The least you can do is give me something nice to dream about on top of it.”

Given that his reality was shattered by Petra’s words at around the same point in time that arousal began trickling into his crotch, Henri managed his cousin’s address quite well. Too knowledgeable as to her wants to find any of her words ambiguous, he instead tip-toed around what he deemed to be a significant problem associated with her request:

Their location.

“Isn’t doing that stuff in a store a bad idea?” he replied. “I don’t mind helping more, but stuff I’ve seen online always makes it seem like we’d get in trouble if we were caught.”

“Okay, #1, don’t care.” snapping back immediately, Petra continued caressing his thigh without allowing her temper to alter it. “#2, I’m the only one who could have got us through that door this early. There’s a little less than an hour until midnight—it’s enough time for something.”

Evidently misguided as to the importance of their surroundings, Henri next moved onto the subject of the ‘something’ that she had referenced.

“…Okay?” he continued, confusion dominating his tone. “You were really upset and worried about being too much of a mess before we left home, though. Does that mean you want to do something different from what we usually do?”

“Why do you think I look like this?” retorted Petra. “Do you think it’s because I like Eidos Lighter?”

“Yes. You remembered the way she talks—if you didn’t like it, you probably would’ve forgot.”

“W-Well, okay, I do _a bit._ It’s not totally why, though…”

“So move.”

Ultimatum stated, Petra turned her back to Henri and threw her frame backwards. Laying herself out back-first along the couch, Henri’s split-second vacation of the couch surface left the back of her skull planted against the same stretch of cushion she had sat atop.

Subsequently, she turned her gaze up towards him and pointed at her mouth.

“You’re fucking this hole this time. A-And remember, I’m not Petra—I’m Eidos Lighter.” she continued. “A-And you’ve gotta be extra mean this time. Pretend I made you upset or something, o-okay?”

As these words hit his ears, Henri was tempted to think about them. Instinctively, something about the delivery of Petra’s requests made him feel as though following through with them was not a particularly good idea. If he thought about it, determining whether or not this was the case would become much easier as well.

Yet he didn’t. Motivated towards compliance by the stinging erection that Petra had caressed into his crotch, he forgot his concerns in favor of action.

Having taken up a standing position that situated him near to his cousin’s skull, he briefly nodded in response to her request before using it to his advantage. After discarding his sweatpants, he cautiously replanted himself atop the couch in a manner capable of facilitating Petra’s request.

First bending his right leg, he planted its kneecap down against the couch cushioning to the right side of her skull. Leaving his left planted against the floor beneath the couch—or as much of it as the length of his limb could keep contact with—he subsequently guided his sex-greased erection from its imposing hover over her face back through a slide that directed its nose directly opposite her mouth.

Intoxicated by the masculine stink glazing her cousin’s erection, Petra found herself both stunned and satiated by the first thrust that he delivered. In it was an aggregate of confidence and aggression that pointed towards Henri’s recognizing exactly how to approach her request.

A similar assuredness defined every thrust that he produced following this one. In defiance of the congested humidity that smothered the vascularity of his member and the crippling stimulation that it funneled up his spine, Henri used all of the strength and experience he had accrued (with regards to intercourse) to repeatedly drive his cock through hooked plunges into and out from Petra’s throat.

Months prior, managing this as he did would have been impossible for him. Then, the stimulated shuddering that consumed him as the majority of his cock was pressed through the scalding compression of her throat was likely to have bled into an ineffective hilting of his member into the quivering bloat of Petra’s esophagus. Assaulted on all sides by squirming, mucus-glazed flesh painfully adept at squeezing stimulation into his mast, pushing himself to produce anything resembling his current ministration set would have required a great deal of ‘motivation’ from his phallus-choked cousin.

No such motivation was required at present. Taught precisely what to do after hilting himself and how to approach the convulsive phallus-milking applied by Petra’s guts, Henri smoothly transitioned from a slotting of his cock into her mouthcunt to a strenuous goring of its depths.

Straight after the delivery of his first thrust, his first act was an outward hooking of his crotch along the same slanted angle he had used to penetrate Petra’s mouth in the first place. By reflex, he offset most of his weight onto his floor-planted left foot, then unplugged just over three inches of his sex-greased organ from her esophagus’ depths. Undaunted by the gunked backdraft of slop and mucus wrenched out alongside his member, he used the slovenly splatter of fluid against his crotch as motivation for a ‘push off’ with his right foot. Toes dug deeply into the couch material beneath them, the exertion that he generated with this leg punched his crotch forward with enough force to messily stuff the inches he had peeled from her guts back into their gooey embrace. All at once, the underside of his balls were returned to a suffocating impression directly beneath Petra’s nostrils, and his crotch was again ‘kissed’ against the increasingly sloppy exterior of her lips and cheeks.

A single successful pump of his crotch was all that he required to replicate it effectively. Behind it, he dipped his torso forward just slightly to apply additional weight to his thrusts—an act that deepened his left palm’s impression into the ridiculous bloat of Petra’s left breast—and afterwards slipped into a repeating chain of reels and plunges that noisily plumbed his member through the suction and convulsion imposed by Petra’s esophagus.

Consistent in execution and initially tireless in its pacing, the only signage that presented him as being in any way overwhelmed by his circumstance were the juvenile grimaces that constricted his features throughout his motions.

Soon enough, though, these expressions were revealed to be another short-lived coping mechanism that Henri required to survive.

Throughout the first minute of his hooked masturbation with Petra’s facecunt, every single depression of his cock fed the middle-inches of his cock through the destructively-tight back end of her throat. Right up until the end of a given stroke, heat and pressure sufficient for coaxing wadded ‘clogs’ of precum through his urethra were mushed across the rugged bloat of his cock from every conceivable angle. Impactful in and of themselves, these qualities were enhanced further by the bulbous meatiness of her esophagus’ depths, and the orifice’s seemingly-elastic refusal to ‘adhere’ to the spreading imposed by his cock.

Simultaneously, these depressions wedged the peak of his cock through pockets of esophagus flesh far fussier than those that abused the trunk of his shaft. Despite having to dig down through a mere trio of the pulsing tube’s inches, the balmy, arousal-swelled meat that lined the organ past its midsection squished down on his glans with a weight that made Henri feel as though he had sunk his cock into a wriggling sinkhole of meat. On completion of any one of his hilts, his phallus’ depression resulted in countless heady wads of semen-quality precum blurting from the nose of his length towards Petra’s stomach—among other messy consequences ranging from bubbly blurts of mucus from her nostrils and protracted gurgles of sludge sliding from the corners of her mouth.

I guess I could have described that, but here we are.

Hence his grimacing. On top of the ‘general’ stimulation inherent to digging one’s cock into a wet, sexually-seasoned orifice, Henri’s thrusting pattern regularly exposed him to degrees of stimulation that should have threaded loads of semen from his balls within seconds of his experiencing them. As such an early release was not possible for him (lest he fail to support Eidos Lighter/betray his cousin’s expectations), he diffused the pleasure that he experienced in the only manner that his body could manage without altering the pace of his thrusts.

Over time, however, even the stinging bliss steamrolled across his member became manageable for him. Having been subjected to far more abrasive forms of stimulation by his cousin’s whims, acclimating to this one required a minute or two of suffering from him.

Beyond this point, turning his attention to the ‘specifics’ of his cousin’s requests became much easier for him as well. Apparently numb to the compressed bursts of throatslop that his thrusts yoked from Petra’s maw and their drenching of his crotch with cloudy lubrication, his first act upon stabalizing himself was a tightening of his palm’s impression against her breast, and an upswing of his line of sight.

Incidentally, his doing so was timely. Several feet ahead of the couch through the ajar doorway leading into the breakroom, Henri caught sight of several uniformed employees preparing the store for a massive influx of customers through the breakroom’s doorway.

If Eidos Lighter’s wishes were to be fulfilled at all, now was the time for him to start on them.

“Mngrr…y-you’re such a difficult cockjuice vaccum, Eidos Lighter! You’ve spewed so much throatpussy juice against my crotch, but you still haven’t cum yet!” he complained, voice altered to convey as much mock discontentment as possible. “They’re gonna open the store, so if you don’t hurry up and let me help you, someone might see you getting used like the gross, lube-clogged onahole you are!”

“Is that really worth one load of squirming dickmilk in your stomach? If so, that’s really greedy! As much as you might need it, being both greedy **and** a retarded cocksleeve is just gonna make it more difficult for you to help people later on…”

Whilst producing these utterances, separating himself from their contents proved beyond the capacity of Henri’s sex-addled psyche. His awareness of the fact that he was fulfilling a request placed by his cousin did not fade, but to a point, he genuinely believed that he was uttering these things at Eidos Lighter herself (as opposed to some version of her).

Led in part by these feelings, he initiated a steady, kneading rotation of his left wrist, and subsequently turned his gaze back down towards Petra’s body. On doing so, the wriggling of her hips in response to his thrusts immediately dragged the focal point of his gaze to her crotch.

Per usual, syrup-dense gushes of sexual lubricant both thicker and hotter than the mire spewed from her throat regularly jumped from her exposed lower lips. Unobstructed by a parting of her panties’ crotch to the side of her mound, both the inner sides of her thighs and the pudgy exterior of her cunt’s face had obtained a healthy glossing with the substance since the last time he laid eyes on them.

After watching a handful of these discharges from start to finish, Henri found validation for his comments about Petra’s greed:

It was not as though his efforts weren’t sufficient for Petra to find release—she simply wanted to soak up as much stimulation as she possibly could.

Understandably, his recognition of this resulted in yet another ‘flaring’ of his acted temper. However, unlike its predecessors, the genuinity audible in it did not sound as though it was ‘acted’.

“Hmpf, fine! Be a dick-snorting pig if you want!” he spat, angrily. “I’ll just have to dig my cock down your throat until all you can feel is satisfaction! Then you’ll have no choice but to accept the energy you need and stop being such a gross retard!”

“ ‘cause you’re not! Y-You’re nice and sweet and always do your best to help people!”

Behind his declaration, Henri injected even move energy into his thrusting pattern. Accelerating the pace of his hilting and deepening their impacts with the application of sharp, left-right wriggles of his crotch after every slop-greased compression of his crotch against her face, he within seconds adopted a far more ‘hell-bent’ approach to Petra’s satisfaction.

Of course, for as much as he believed that this effort was for her, a fraction of it remained for himself. On top of the worsening pressure within the base of his crotch, his ‘image’ of Eidos Lighter depended on his returning her to normal as quickly as he could.

Thus, he invested himself. At the behest of his nerves and his concern for his cousin’s condition, he took to railing her throat as though it truly was a second cunt designed to drain suck his pulsing erection dry.

Contrary to the implications of her position and condition, Petra was not taken aback by her younger cousin’s newfound aggression. Throughout its beginnings, the squirming of her hips did not become more aggressive, and the frequency of her cunt’s sputtering went completely unchanged.

Given a glance at her frame, a layman was far more likely to conclude that she had laid in wait for this change from the moment he skewered his semen-scented erection down her throat.

Succinctly, she had. Whilst her esophagus was fucked deeply enough to drag translucent bursts of mucus and bile into compressed splatters across her face, her mind was dominated by thoughts of more. When the substances gutted from her facecunt drained across the top half of her face in the form of numerous, eye-reddening rivulets, her ‘response’ to the pain and embarrassment they induced was longing and anticipation for more. Even as the face of her neck was reddened by its regular inflations with the girth of Henri’s cock—a vibrant event timed to every hole-spreading plunge he managed—satisfaction remained far removed from her psyche.

When Henri began plunge-fucking her throat in earnest, this changed. Abruptly, the brunt of the satisfaction that she should have been enduring as coupled with the various pleasure sources throbbing within her consumed her psyche at once.

Faced with such satisfaction, her body chose wallowing over defusal. Similarly, as her mind was not yet overcome by the amount of stimulation she was enjoying, her thoughts shifted towards appreciation as opposed to the sort of orgasmic screeching that her circumstance deserved.

With next to no prompting, Henri was providing her with the exact brand of sexual brutalization that she adored most. If this was not deserving of appreciation, nothing could be—

At least not so far as she was concerned.

“H-Holy shit this is amazing. I-I was worried this stupid trip would ruin everything, but this is so much better than staying in ♥.” she thought to herself, inner voice infected by airy bliss. “His thrusts almost feel like he actually hates me. Like he wants to beat up all my holes like the disgusting dick-rag I am …♥”

“I knew he’d put in a little bit more effort if I made it about Eidos Lighter—t-that’s the whole reason I took this risk in the first place. S-Still, it’s _soooo_ much better than normal. I-I’ve already cum like twice from how much of a mess he’s managed to fuck out of my throat, a-and it’s only gonna get worse now that he’s really trying.”

“B-But I’m not gonna let him stop ♥. Y-You’re gonna have to do everything that you said you would to make this stop, Henri. Churn up my slimy throatcunt until I cum! Make me such a sloppy mess that everyone who comes into this shop will know that you did it to me~!”

“Make me into your big cousin into your personal jizz-slurping bitch ♥!”

Not surprisingly, Petra’s ability to ‘appreciate’ her circumstance with modesty did not last very long. As a result of the strain-tinged pleasure that erupted through her gullet for every thrust that Henri delivered, what began as a warm overview of her latest degenerate sex act with Henri swiftly devolved into repeated verbalizations of the desires motivating her action.

Throughout the minutes that followed, fuel for these verbalizations was provided to her frame in spades. Shortly after her first salvo of utterances, Petra’s body began on the now-impossible task of diffusing the stimulation surging through her frame. As a result of this, the perverse reactions that she should’ve produced during the beginnings of Henri’s new thrusting chain began flowing from her in short sequence with one another.

First and most flagrant among these was the eruption of cuntsyrup from her folds. As if ‘confused’ as to which of her orifices was being fucked, arced bursts of the clear slime exploded from her cunt in response to the more impactful thrusts that Henri delivered. In particular, every hilt of his crotch that tempted the youth to stir the meat of his length around through the stifling puffiness of her esophagus resulted in at least one discharge of syrup from between her lower lips’ chub.

At the root of these discharges were convulsions funneled from her esophagus down through to her vaginal canal. These individually enhanced by Petra’s depravity, the stinging bliss funneled through her neck successfully confused her reproductive organs into believing that they were being fucked with the same level of brutality. Under this assumption, orgasmic expulsions of lubrication seemed to be the ‘thing to do’ relative their situation.

The next reaction drawn from her was mixed. In the wake of several constrictive ripples through the smooth muscle of her esophagus, surges of vomit were funneled through her esophagus out to smothered eruptions from the edges of her lips and the sometimes-covered openings to her nostrils. Each comprised primarily of semen, mucus, and viscous quantities of throatslop packed down through her gullet by Henri’s efforts, the cloudy-white substance was very easy to recognize as something ‘other’ than her mouthcunt’s usual offerings.

Separately, assuming one maintained some sort of inane stake in believing that they were something else entirely, what accompanied them ensured that these delusions were not prolonged. As the majority of these bursts were released whilst the full length of Henri’s cock sat slotted down Petra’s throat, their contents were ‘spread’ across her features as opposed to being spewed out above them. With nowhere to go, vivid *GLLLRUGGHH!* noises sounded out from Petra’s crotch-pressed features each time one of these spreads occurred. In time with this, grotesque burbles of puke were forced through her nostrils, and the rivulets of slop that had marred her features beforehand were supplemented, then entirely covered by massive flourishes of a far nastier substance. With time, their number and volume successfully presented Petra’s face as yet another squirting, oversexed orifice for her younger cousin’s cock.

A number of other reactions ranging from the inundation of her midsection by trembling convulsions to desperate claps of her right palm against the outer edge of Henri’s right thigh garnished these two events such that Petra’s perception of them became far more mind-rending overtime. Appropriately, though, their number did not make them more significant than their predecessors. From the initial adjustment of Petra’s mental state onward, the largest contributor to the perverse musings that echoed through her head were the squirming convulsions of her cunt and their constrictive, G.I-tract rooted counterparts.

Funnily enough, their quality did not affect her coherence. Save the occasional injection of additional vulgarity, Petra’s utterances remained as ‘on-brand’ as could be expected given her situation.

Of course, the same could not be said about the level of desperation that they contained.

“Oh my goooooood ♥♥! Yes-yes-yes—gore my sloppy fucking face-pussy ♥. Make me puke all over myself~!” she cooed, tone somehow spared from the debilitation endured by the rest of her frame.

“Make me cum all over myself more! Show my body what happens when it gets addicted to little boy cock (h)!”

**“Show me how much you love fucking Eidos Lighterrrrr** ♥♥ **!”**

If liberal with the desires that she uttered to herself, Petra was not so far gone as to believe that her thoughts were capable of influencing Henri’s actions. If established patterns held, the route that he’d take to her satisfaction would be one dictated by his still-growing capacity for sexual stimulation and whatever volume of semen her esophagus had managed to pack into his crotch. In short, the odds for her receiving the things that she begged for were no different than the odds of her receiving nothing at all.

Despite this, each utterance she produced was one uttered in good faith. She could not be certain that she’d receive the things that she wanted, but at her core, she believed that she would.

This belief was rooted in who she was. Perhaps ‘Petra Athelas’ was incapable of speaking to her cousin’s heart, but the same could not be said of Eidos Lighter.

And, if only whilst his cock sat in the midst of stirring her innards, Eidos Lighter was precisely who she was presenting herself to be.

Per this understanding, neither the fluttering increase in his cock’s throbbing nor the steady up-tick in his thrusts’ aggression came as a significant surprise to her.

Having spoken directly to Henri’s heart, his producing these things was only a matter of time.

“A-Alright! Time for your energy, Eidos Lighter!” seemingly from nowhere, the changes that Petra sensed in her cousin’s ministrations were complimented by an outburst from him.

“U-Uh…”

“Gulp my cockjuice into your stomach! Squeeze it all down your throat or suffocate!” he continued, angrily.

**“Slurp out every drop or I’ll dump it out onto your face you cum-gargling bitch!”**

While arguably similar to the outbursts that Henri typically produced whilst fulfilling Petra’s requests, the ones that he produced at this juncture were tinged by an uncommon variety of juvenile desperation. Simply, their tone suggested that Henri’s aim in producing them was the acquirement of disconfirmation.

Long since accustomed to Eidos Lighter presenting as the things that he had described (i.e. the aforementioned cum-gargling bitch), the starry-eyed child within him remained sorely averse to the idea of her _being_ these things. Convinced at his core that she wasn’t, he pushed his sweat-drenched frame to administer the only test capable of confirming things one way or another.

True to his word, the manic thrusting salvo he produced did not last very long. Seconds after his declaration, the slop-mired clapping of his crotch off of Petra’s face was capped off by the expulsion of a massive blurt of cockjuice from the tip of his cock. Released in the wake of a grotesque * **BLORT** ~* accompanied by innumerable digestive gurgles, the virile strand of sludge ‘filled in’ several inches of taut esophagus lining ahead of his glans before its volume (and the pressure backing it) were completely expended.

Measuring out at the full length of its progenitor’s forearm and owning a dense muddiness akin to loosened dough, the fact that it _only_ managed to inundate a handful of her hole’s inches was something of a miracle. Had it been dumped into the gullet of a less ravenous women, some combination of its weight and virility would have resulted in her esophagus walls being spread apart like the innards of that that long, tube-shaped pastry at Tim Hortons filled in with cream. Not the Boston Cream, the uh.

Eclairs, that’s it.

Fortunately (depending on one’s perspective on the subject), Petra was herself. As opposed to an immediate inundation of the inches of esophagus flesh leading into her stomach, several additional strands of mildly off-white nut were required to achieve this effect. Each dispelled from the bloat of Henri’s glans behind a series of nauseating gurgles, their compilation pushed the ‘filling’ of her esophagus down to her stomach before even a half-dozen strands escaped his balls.

Ordinarily, Petra utilized this time to great effect. So as to prevent herself from asphyxiating on semen, she leveraged the cunt-like tightness of her esophagus to begin swallowing down the cocksludge fed into it before it became problematic. With enough of a head start, the majority of any load that Henri flushed down her throat could be squeezed into her stomach well before his orgasm came to an end.

On this occasion, Petra started late. Partly as a result of the spaciness wrought from her repeated orgasms and partly due to the overwhelming happiness that Henri’s abuse had welled within her, she did not begin dragging the contents of his load into her stomach until a lengthy blockage of sludge had formed throughout the lower reaches of her esophagus.

Further stymied by the substance’s hole-scalding temperature and the writhing of the tadpoles contained within it, her handling of Henri’s orgasm eventually amounted to something both taxing and revolting. Seconds into his release, the *GLRSH(s)* that sounded out from her crotch-smothered face acquired a volume and frequency that suggested that something was approaching. Behind the loudest yet, the ‘growth’ of her esophagus’ clogging with semen resulted in pressurized eruptions of the substance surging out against Henri’s crotch through both her lips and nostrils. Cumulatively massive enough to constitute a water balloon-sized burst out from underneath Henri’s crotch, its outflow proved large enough to clear the length of her face before ‘ending’ in jagged smears spread across the beginnings of her hairline.

Likely as a result of the stinging wads of semen draped across her eyes in the process, Petra regained control over Henri’s release shortly after this event. Owning the cakinzg of her face with sexual filth as a badge of honor, she accelerated her impotent gulping against Henri’s cock into phallus-draining instances of peristalsis meant to thread even the fussiest wads of semen out through his urethra. Through these, she averted the formation of a second blockage of semen within her esophagus whilst simultaneously accelerating the end of his release.

Throughout this process, her inner voice was decidedly silent. Mewling about the drenching of her face with semen and vomit remained on its list of ‘things to do’, yet its first opportunity to do so went unused.

‘Why’ was a matter of preoccupation. Whilst threading wads of stinking cockjuice into her stomach, Petra found her attention—and by proxy, her musings—taken up with a very different subject:

The paltry volume of semen offered up by Henri’s balls.

“…W-Who would’ve thought. All it takes is a whole night of us fucking and his loads actually end up seeming normal. Any amount that makes me puke all over my own face isn’t really normal, b-but it’s usually way worse than this by default.” she thought to herself. “I-I’ll have to keep this in mind for the future. If I can stop myself from being so needy about all of this and maybe jerk him off or something beforehand, maybe I won’t end up making such a mess.”

“Ugh, w-what the fuck am I even talking about? I-It’s done anyway, so after I slurp out a little bit more, I can just clean up a bit and we buy that stupid boxset and leave.”

“Henri should be exhausted, so I shouldn’t have any trouble with it eith—”

For the second time in several minutes, Petra’s preoccupation reaped an unexpected and (partly) unwanted consequence. Right as the outflow of semen strands from Henri’s length was reduced to the discharge of muddy blurts, a sudden outward wrench of the boy’s crotch initiated a semen-haggard unplugging of his cock from her esophagus. Careless and aggressive in its make, he briefly wrestled with her throat’s tightened depths before the outflow of a sodden *SCHLORP* from her lips bled into a smooth extraction of his still erect length out from between them. Followed every step of the way by a mudslide-esque backdraft of nut whose release glued her right eye shut underneath layered streaks of semen, the popping of his glans from between her lips ‘completed’ his release with a final marring of her features.

Or so Petra assumed.

In the wake of his unholstering, Henri explicitly recalled an utterance responsible for guiding his behavior from the beginning of his thrusting metronome:

_“A-And you’ve gotta be extra mean this time. Pretend I made you upset or something, o-okay?”_

While it echoed through his ear, he dropped his right hand down towards Petra’s skull. There, he trapped a handful of the smooth pink locks nearest the front of her skull and tugged them up towards his cock. On contact, he applied them as a rag for the glutted mixtures of semen and puke still caked to the exterior of his member. Then, when it became apparent that the hair he had collected was too clumped to absorb anything further, he took up another to continue on with the effort.

At the outset of this activity, Henri intended to prolong it until he felt satisfied that he had treated his cousin with enough ‘meanness’ to satisfy the request she had made as Eidos Lighter. However, only seconds into it, reality demanded that he abandon the activity in favor of another.

Someone was approaching the doorway to the breakroom. Spirited off of the couch by a disquieting surge in his heartrate, Henri reacquired his discarded sweatpants and dragged them up along his lower body as a child possessed.

Following her abandonment, Petra reacted in kind. Made to forgo her delirious, lip-bit stare up Henri’s attempt at cleaning his cock, she peeled her intoxicated frame out of contact with the couch cushions beneath her and took up a seated position against its spine. Without time to properly address the state of her face, she haphazardly cleared the ‘worst’ of its caking with her bangs before settling her palms into an inconspicuous stacking atop her lap.

So did she finish with this did one of the doormen from the store’s entrance peek his head through the crack left within the door.

Coincidentally, a glance at his features revealed him to be the same one who had directed the pair towards the room in the first place.

“Christ, my bad, sorry for not knocking. Force of habit.” he began. “I just wanted to let you guys know that we’re going to be opening the doors in about 10 minutes. Since you’re already in here, I figured it couldn’t hurt to let you guys grab yours before all of that.”

“I’ve got my buddy from the door waiting behind me, so it’d be a great time for those pictures I mentioned as well. Does that work for you?”

Based on the doorman’s tone and delivery, the full extent of the scene he had walked into was not yet apparent to him. But, assuming that the breakroom’s inhabitants took him up on his suggestion—a very likely and normal occurrence given the story Petra had used to get them in—some amount of it would be conveyed to him up close one way or another.

On recognition of this and the very limited battery of options it saddled her with, Petra neither fussed nor panicked.

Given only a moment’s notice, she adapted. Steeling herself one final time, she prepared herself to address the doorman with yet another glance at Henri.

As soon as her eyes met his, she reached over with her right hand to apply a reassuring squeeze to his left thigh, and afterwards pushed a whisper from between her lips.

“…I’m going to say it again.”

“If you tell anyone about what you’re about to see, I’m going to kill you.”

“B-But…”

Given pause by a moment’s reflection on the events that preceded their ambush, Petra covertly pushed her skull down towards Henri’s before continuing to speak. Here, she pecked her lips into a single kiss against the edge of his forehead, then ‘adjusted’ the nervous frustration spread across her face with a smile.

If its warmth was to believed, this smile was as genuine a gesture as she was capable of producing.

“Y-You did great, by the way. Thank you.”


End file.
